That is MY Bow
by Brin
Summary: Legolas wasn't always the suave, sarcastic, polite, romantic, and agile elf we all know and love...he had to learn to be like that. The HARD way. Feel sorry for his babysitters...
1. Destined for Discipline

That is MY Bow 

By Brin

Disclaimer: Don't own any characters mentioned in any of Tolkein's books, his songs, or anything like that.

Summary: Legolas wasn't always the noble, polite, agile, mirthful, and kind bow master that we all know and love…He had to learn to be like that. The hard way.

A/N: Movieverse.

Chapter 1: Destined for Discipline 

~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~

Young Legolas Greenleaf slouched in his chair as his professor droned on about the political history of Mirkwood. The restless prince's attention span had long burnt out and he had been staring outside at his father's archers practice on the range for hours now.

"Prince Legolas!" barked the teacher, snapping the young elf out of his reverie. "Pay attention!"

"I am a prince and I am to be spoken to as such," replied Legolas, sitting up. "My father will hear of your insolence."

"Your father has more urgent things on his mind than the complaints of a selfish little elf whom acts more like a dwarf than a prince! Now pay attention to your lessons!" snapped the professor.

"Lord Ravon, please, go easy on the boy," said a deep voice. "He has been bored enough by all the other scholars in Mirkwood."

Both elves turn to the door to see the training master and captain of the Mirkwood patrol, Lord Drago, standing in the door with his bow in hand. There was a sheen of sweat on his brow, showing that he had recently been practicing, and his blue eyes traveled from teacher to student with interest.

"Yes, Lord Drago, he has been 'bored,' as you put it, by every other scholar because none of them put up with him long enough to get through two lessons!" said Ravon, crossing his hands over his chest. "The boy needs discipline!"

"What the boy needs is a lesson that interests him. The great kings of Mirkwood does not qualify," reasoned Lord Drago.

"And how would you know?" asked the professor irritably. "As I recall, you never did learn your history, now did you Drago?"

Lord Drago ignored the professor and turned to Legolas. "I have been asked by the king to take you to the range and fit you with a bow. From now on, I am your professor."

Legolas's eyes lit up. "You mean I get to learn the bow?"

"Yes, that's exactly what I mean. Come along, boy, today we begin your training!"

~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~

Legolas hopped from one foot to the other as Lord Drago went up and down the rows of bows, all neatly placed in a row against the wall. The craftself stood behind his counter, scribbling something down on piece of parchment.

"How about this one, Prince Legolas?" rumbled Drago, picking up a bow.

The young elf's eyes widened. The bow was huge, at least twice his size and as thick as his hand was long. "Isn't it a bit…large?" he ventured as Lord Drago handed it to him, the weight causing him to nearly topple over.

"You're a small lad and have years to grow, but I guess that one is too heavy for fair, untainted hands such as yours," he said, moving on.

Legolas deposited the bow on the ground and chased after the weapons master. "My hands are not 'fair and untainted!' Girls hands are as such! I have the hands of a warrior, not some senseless hobbit!"

"Prince Legolas!" roared Drago as he whirled around. "Do not rush upon yourself the horror and doubt of death!"

Legolas was dumbfounded. Professors had yelled at him before, but there was something about the flaming look in Drago's eyes that scared any rebuke from him. He just stood there, head hung low, hoping that he hadn't made a grave mistake by this entire ordeal.

"Now, hold such comments on your tongue and hope that my hand does not fly back and strike you across the face should you ever enrage me again," warned the master as he once again moved down the aisle.

Prince Legolas, still shocked that anyone would dare speak to him this way, flanked the training master like an obedient puppy.

"This one," said Drago, pulling out another bow, "is perfect." He handed it to the little elf and stepped back to assess the picture. "It suits you, young prince."

Legolas fingered the bow carefully. It was light, but not too much so, and a bit long, but he knew he would grow into it eventually. The bowstring was made of hair from the elves of Lothlorien; Legolas could tell by the shimmering color. Engraved on the bow were golden leaves intermixed with the symbol of Mirkwood. The wood was a deep red-brown color, polished to a shine. He smiled. "This is cool!"

Drago laughed. "Yes, 'cool,' Prince Legolas. Now for your first lesson."

~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~

"Hold the bow in your left hand and pull the string taut with your right. Be careful of snapping yourself," instructed Lord Drago, demonstrating with his own bow, a heavy black metal one made many years ago when he fought against the Dark Lord Sauron alongside Lord Elrond. "Hold the arrow level." He let the arrow go and it hit the target dead center one hundred yards away.

Legolas fumbled with his bow, unable to hold the bow and the arrow in the proper place at the same time. The pressure on his arms caused by keeping the bowstring taut was making him grow fatigued, and sweat rolled down the side of his face. He was growing frustrated. "Lord Drago, the arrow doesn't stay still!"

Drago adjusted the arrow and stepped back. "Okay."

The young elf let the bowstring go and watched in dismay as his arrow flew a few feet then faltered and landed not three yards away. Adding to his distress, the bowstring snapped his hand and he cried out in pain. It felt like he had been whipped and a red line began to form across his knuckles.

"Bad start. Try again," said Lord Drago, handing the prince another arrow.

Legolas swatted the arrow away and crossed his arms over his chest angrily. "Not until you show me what you're doing that I am not! I should be an expert with the bow!"

Drago shook his head. "Patience, Prince. I can give you lessons and correct your mistakes but I cannot give you thousands of years of fighting and practicing."

"I wan to be an expert NOW," protested Legolas.

"Prince Legolas, remember the warning you were issued earlier!" said Drago, raising his voice a bit. "I do not want to strike you, but I will."

"You cannot strike me! I am royalty and my father will have you hanged!" shouted Legolas, throwing his bow down indignantly.

"Pick it up," ordered Drago silently.

"No!"

"I said, pick it up, child!"

Legolas glared at the bow master. "And I said no."

The look was promptly wiped from his face as Drago's large hand smacked him across the face with enough force to send the young elf reeling backward into the bushes in a very undignified manner.

"Prince Legolas, you have a lot to learn about how to live in this world. Lesson one: Do not enrage those most valuable to you," said Drago firmly before turning and walking away, leaving Legolas spitting leaves and twigs.

~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~

Legolas sat in his bed, not yet dressed for the day, and stared at the ceiling. His knuckles were still stinging from the day before and it had taken hours soaking in the hot springs outside the city to wash the dirt and grime from his body after Drago had sent him to the ground with one hit. His mind drifted between utter fury at having been treated in such a way and humiliation at having been thrown into the bushes by the training master in front of his father's elite archers. They hadn't dared laugh, but it was hard to miss the amused smiles playing across their faces.

 The door opened and King Thranduil entered.

"Father," said Legolas formally.

Without even bidding him a 'hello,' Thrandruil got right to the point: "Lord Drago tells me you quit the study of archery."

"Yes, I did," declared the prince. "He humiliated me in front of your elite."

"Well then, you'll just have to go back to your studies of history and other cultures," said the king. "I'll inform Professor Ravon that you will be returning to his class tomorrow morning." He got as far as the door, then turned around and said with a disappointed look in his eyes, "I knew you'd never amount to much as a soldier, or even be one for that matter. You just don't have the right spirit about you." He then turned and left, closing the door behind him.

Legolas stared at the door for a small eternity. Never be a soldier? Not the right 'spirit about him'? Legolas's blood boiled and he rose from his bed to get dressed. His father's disapproval was all the incentive he needed. "I'll show you, King Thranduil!"

~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~

Lord Drago had just finished recruiting new archers when Legolas came into his office, bow in hand. He looked up at the young elf expectantly, not saying a word.

"I want to learn the bow," said Legolas, determinedly setting his jaw.

"But it is such a tiring art," mused Drago, leaning back in his chair. "And you snap your fingers and hurt your arms. You have already voiced your dislike of it."

Legolas walked forward so that he was right in front of Drago's desk. "My father thinks I will never amount to something as an archer. Please, show me the bow. I want to show him what I am."

Drago nodded knowingly. Legolas loved his father, but they had never had a very good father/son relationship. Thranduil was constantly away on business or partying with his social peers; leaving little time with Legolas. The only time Thranduil even acknowledged his son was when discussing possible marriages to Elven princesses or when Legolas did something wrong and a punishment was in order. Legolas wanted so bad to gain his father's attention in a positive way...

"Okay, here's the deal, Prince Legolas," said Drago casually. "If you can prove to me that you can handle the strain of elite archery training for one week, I will teach you the fine art of archery. But you must not whine, complain, or agitated."

Legolas nodded eagerly. "I agree! I agree! Let's be on with it now!"

~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~

DAY 1

"See the target. Hold that image in your mind. Look down the shaft of your arrow and make sure it is going the right way," instructed Drago.

Legolas, sweat beads dribbling down his face, did what he was told and then let go of the arrow. His arms were screaming in protest, but he ignored them as he watched his arrow ricochet off the edge of the target—a large wooden disc with red and white circles painted onto it—and land somewhere in the grass.  
  


"Good. You hit the target," said Drago, smiling as he handed the young prince some water. "It's progress from yesterday."

Legolas took a long drink, handed the water back to Drago, then looked at the target with a sigh. "What am I doing wrong?" he asked, trying to hide the irritation he was feeling but not succeeding very well.

"You're trying too hard, that's the problem," said the weapons master. "Try not to concentrate so hard on the bull's eye. Put all your feeling into just hitting the target."

DAY 2

Legolas's arrow flew across the field and implanted itself on the very bottom edge of the target. His blue eyes widened to the size of saucers and he dropped his bow and quiver, arrows spilling all over the place. "I…I hit it! Drago, I hit the target and it…it didn't bounce off or anything!"

Drago smiled. "So you did, young prince! Now try it with a real arrow."

Legolas scowled. Okay, so he had snapped one of his arrows in half and placed feathers on the end…but hey, at least he hit it, right? Right?!

DAY 3

Legolas yelped in pain as the bowstring snapped him in the face for the third time that day. He had red marks across both cheeks and now one over his eye. He was getting more than a little irritated.

Not to mention the fact that the elite archers were sniggering at him and whispering amongst themselves. He ignored them and fitted his bow again, his arms not shaking as badly as they had the first day, even though they were sore. He had just gotten the hang of holding the arrow level so that it didn't falter and drop to the ground two feet away from him without Drago's help. Drago had long since given up showing Legolas how to avoid the recoil and was sitting in a chair under a tree watching.

An elite archer shot his arrow and it hit the target dead-center. He laughed and looked over to Legolas, who was trying desperately to control his anger. The prince let his arrow fly and it hit the far right ring on the target for the second time that day (he had long since gotten over the glee of having actually hit the wooden target) but the bowstring once again hit him in the face.

The elite archers continued to laugh.

"What're you looking at?" growled the prince. They stopped laughing and went back to their practicing, knowing that if they made him too mad he could have his father punish them all.

Legolas silently slid over to them, making sure to walk right next to the bushes so his earth-colored robes camouflaged him as much as possible (even if his blonde hair stood out as bright as day). The archers, in their haste to make sure they didn't make him mad, didn't notice. The prince gathered some mud from a nearby puddle into his cupped hands and went over to the large quiver that all the elite used for practice. He dumped the mud down into it, then went back to his spot and resumed his practices.

After about three seconds, he heard the expected cry:

"WHAT THE HELL? WHO DID THIS?!"

Legolas hid his laughter as he watched the elite dump out the muddy quiver and moan and groan about how long it was going to take them to make new arrows.

DAY 4

Legolas sat down outside the archery range after five hours of practice, every muscle in his body aching. He removed his shirt and robes, discarding them on a rock as he rested against a boulder. There were red marks and bleeding blisters all over his arms, hands, and face, agitated by the constant beating the sun gave him. His long blonde hair was plastered to his back from sweat.

He wiped the from his hands blood on his trousers and stood. Three more days to go.

DAY 5

Legolas's arrow hit the target one ring closer to the middle than it had yesterday. He smiled briefly, then Drago handed him another arrow.

"Again. Closer this time."

"You are relentless, Drago! I have made more progress than most of your new recruits make in three weeks! Please, let me rest!" said the prince, swaying back and forth dizzily.

Lord Drago narrowed his eyes. "Prince Legolas, you promised me you would not whine or complain. You are wise and mature beyond your years, Legolas; do not make the mistake of going back on your word."

The young prince nodded and, with a heavy sigh, stood. "Again, then." He adjusted the bloody bandages covering his hands and accepted the next arrow.

DAY 6

Legolas heard the elite laughing once again as he made a poor shot. Irritated, he waited until they were all distracted, then turned and shot into the crowd. The arrow flew messily and almost hit the ground, but by some miracle, it flew far enough to hit one of the elite archers…

  
Right in the butt.

"YOOOOOWWW!!!" howled the archer, grabbing his backside and jumping about ten feet into the air. "What the hell?!" He started running around in circles. "Get it out! Get it out!"

The other elite archers began falling over themselves with laughter.

Legolas smiled to himself and resumed practicing.

DAY 7

Legolas collapsed on the ground after ten hours of intense training and vomited his meager breakfast into the bushes as the sun beat down on his bare, burnt back. For one week he had been tested by means of his patience, his temperament, and his physical ability…and he had passed. He had passed.

Drago smiled. "Prince Legolas, you have impressed me and the elite archers. Not only did you survive one week of elite training with no prior experience, but you single-handedly showed humiliation to an elite archer who needed it badly." He chuckled a bit at the memory of the chaos that had ensued when his captain had come rushing in with an arrow sticking out of his butt.

Legolas looked up at his training master and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "I told you I could do it."

TBC…

Up next: Girls, Greens, and Goblins

A/N: It gets better in the next chapters, I promise! Hang in there with me, PLEASE?!


	2. Girls, Greens, and Goblins

That is MY Bow 

By Brin

See Part 1 for Disclaimer

A/N: Yes, I am using characters from my story, Storm Clouds, in this story, but whatever happens here has close to nothing with the storyline/characterization in Storm Clouds. Oh yeah, and does anyone know what Legolas's mom's name is?!

Status: In this story Legolas appears to be 12, maybe 13. Ringiel and Ellowyn both appear 12.

##~~~~~~   ##~~~~~~   ##~~~~~~   ##~~~~~~

Chapter 2: Girls, Greens, and Goblins

Young Legolas Greenleaf, Prince of Mirkwood, struggled to pull on his trousers as the sun peeked over the horizon. So far he had gotten his toe stuck in a hole in the knee and a thread had wrapped around his foot, further complicating the situation. After much hopping back and forth across the room on one foot, he finally tripped over a toy and toppled to the ground with a loud 'oomph!' After lying there for a few minutes, face-down, he lifted his head and spat out a dust bunny.

"Need some help?"

Legolas looked up to see Drago standing in the doorway, a smile playing across his usually pursed lips.

"No," growled the prince, sitting up and yanking his foot out of the tangled mess, the action causing the trouser leg to rip totally off from the knee down. He stifled a groan and tossed the pants away. "I'll just get another pair."

"I came to see if anything was the matter. You're thirty minutes late for your classes," stated the older Elf in a matter-of-factly tone. "Are you sure you don't need some help?"

Prince Legolas pulled another pair of trousers from his bureau and quietly slipped them on, ignoring the bow master's obvious amusement at his predicament. "I woke up late and had a minor problem getting dressed. I'll be there in a minute."

Drago shook his head and left the room, muttering under his breath to himself.

Legolas stuck his tongue out at Drago's retreating form and finished buttoning his tunic, only to find that he had misaligned the buttons and had to start all over. Gritting his teeth with frustration, the young prince unbuttoned his shirt and finished dressing.

##~~~~~~   ##~~~~~~   ##~~~~~~   ##~~~~~~

After his twentieth professor had quit, Legolas had been sent to a class containing fourteen other students. He admitted to liking this situation much better, since the attention wasn't always focused on him, but still didn't like the fact that the other children treated him like an outsider.

He slid into the classroom thirty-two minutes late, dived into his seat, opened his book to the required page, and began reading as if nothing had happened. His teacher opened her mouth as if to say something, then thought better of it and just shook her head and continued to write the day's lesson on the board.

Legolas had settled into a rhythmic reading speed when something hit him on the back of the head. He turned around and saw two of the largest boys in class, Izareth and Dimitri, snickering amongst themselves. Though a few years younger than him, they were at least five inches taller and definitely more muscled than the fair prince. He wiped the spit wad from the back of his head and turned back to his book determinedly.

A few minutes later, they did it again, only this time the torn piece of scroll splattered when it hit Legolas, tangling into his hair. Legolas whirled around and glared at the two other Elves, who were holding back hysterical laughter.

"Legolas!" said the teacher. "Face the front!"

The prince turned back to the front. "Yes, Miss Arywaen," he said guiltily. Something else hit the back of his head and he reluctantly ignored it as the teacher began telling them about their assignment.

##~~~~~~   ##~~~~~~   ##~~~~~~   ##~~~~~~

Later, after class was dismissed, Legolas was picking pieces of paper out of his hair while sitting on a fallen log when two shadows suddenly loomed over him. He looked up and sighed. "What do _you_ want?"

Izareth laughed and crossed his arms over his chest. "Well…" He smacked Legolas on the back of the head. "Dimitri and I were thinking…"

"That's a first," mumbled the prince.

Dimitri growled and shoved Legolas off the log and onto his back on the ground in a pile of dirt. "Watch it, Princey boy!"

Legolas glared up at him while sitting up and brushing himself off. "And if I don't?"

Izareth smiled evilly and thumped his fist in his hand a few times. "You really wanna find out?" he queried, eyes twinkling with mischievousness.

"No, not especially." With a sudden rush of bravado, the young prince lifted his boot and kicked Izareth in the shins with all his might. The tall Elf yelped and jumped backward, his spot only to be filled by a very, very angry Dimitri.

The last thing Legolas remembered was a big, meaty fist heading straight for his face…

BAM!

##~~~~~~   ##~~~~~~   ##~~~~~~   ##~~~~~~

"Prince Legolas. Prince Legolas, I suggest you wake up."

Legolas groaned and his eyes fluttered open. Lord Drago was standing above him, hands on hips, and a bemused look upon his face. "What…what happened?"

The bow master chuckled softly. "I do think you got in over your head with a schoolyard bully, but that is just my opinion."

"Uuuurgh," groaned the prince, bringing his hand up to gingerly touch his busted lip and black eye. "If I had only had my bow with me…"

"Ah, ah, Legolas," interrupted Drago. "I already told you…"

"Yeah, yeah…a bow is a dangerous and deadly weapon and only to be used as a last resort; when words no longer heed any meaning," muttered Legolas bitterly. "Yeah, well, my words didn't seem to do anything but provoke them."

"Then I suggest you learn _not_ to provoke young boys who are twice your size," mused the older Elf, still smiling. "But that is for a later lesson. Right now, I need to get you ready. Your father is having a grand banquet tonight in celebration of the war party's safe return from its mission in Lórien."

"One day, Lord Drago, I will be the leader of a war party. I will go on a secret, special mission and save all of Mirkwood! I will be a hero!" declared Legolas, eyes sparkling as he just imagined it.

"If you practice with the bow enough, you may yet…you may yet." Drago smiled in a fatherly fashion and helped Legolas sit up. "Now, let's see if we can't clean you up a bit before the banquet…after all, you want to look good for young Lady Ellowyn, don't you?"

Legolas made a disgusted face. "What?! Girls are nasty!" he exclaimed. "I heard that they have cooties." The last part was said quietly, as if a dark secret.

Drago laughed heartily. "Is that so, Prince Legolas?" He paused and ruffled Legolas's hair. "Well, one day your view will change."

"Nuh-uh! If I ever fall in love with a girl, I want you to shoot me!" said the prince, crossing his arms over his chest stubbornly. "But I won't! Because girls are icky!"

Drago just continued to laugh.

##~~~~~~   ##~~~~~~   ##~~~~~~   ##~~~~~~

"Zzzzz…."

"Legolas!"

"Zzzzz…."

"Prince Legolas!"

"Zzzzz…."

_"PRINCE LEGOLAS!!!"_

Legolas jerked awake. "Huh? What?"

The entire banquet table, consisting of about one hundred Elves, was staring at him. He blushed in embarrassment. Next to him, Ellowyn giggled and he turned even redder.

"I said it is a joy that the war party has returned home safe and that I propose a toast to them," Thranduil said, his eyes narrowed in irritation.

Legolas nodded and held up his goblet of juice.

"To the heroes of Mirkwood!" exclaimed the King proudly.

"To the heroes of Mirkwood!" repeated the guests.

"Now, we feast in their honor!" Thranduil declared, sitting down.

Legolas stared at his food, waiting for the heated feeling to leave his cheeks. After a few moments he felt eyes upon him and glanced up to see Ellowyn's turquoise eyes fixed on him. Blood rushed to his face and he quickly stuffed his mouth with food, making himself as unattractive as possible as soup dribbled down his chin. He smiled, fully showing the contents of his mouth. Ellowyn simply giggled and turned to her dark-haired servant and friend, Ringiel, to whisper in her ear.

"Stupid girl," mumbled the prince, food falling from his mouth as he did so. This caused him to receive another annoyed look from his father; a smile from his mother. He swallowed deeply and sighed. This was going to be another one of his father's boring parties where everyone got drunk, shooed the kids outside, and were cranky the next morning. His mother never, ever drank, however, and she usually went around taking care of the adults with hangovers the next morning.

"Sooo…Legolas," said Ellowyn, sliding her chair closer to him. "I suppose you heard the news?"

"What news?" he asked, poking his food aimlessly.

Ellowyn rolled her eyes in an 'I-can't-believe-you-don't-know" manner. "The news about us, silly!" She patted him on the shoulder and batted her long eyelashes.

Legolas peeked over her shoulder at Ringiel, who was laughing at her mistress's hopeless antics. They made eye contact and she immediately silence, darting her eyes to the ground once again. He turned his attention back to Ellowyn. "What about 'us' and since when is there even an 'us'?"

Ellowyn smacked her berry-red lips. "Well, your father agreed that we are an absolute _perfect_ match and, after some talking, my parents agreed that we should be betrothed!"

Legolas's jaw dropped to the floor. "B-b-betrothed?!"

"Yes! Once we reach the age of maturity, we will be wed!" exclaimed the Elven female with a little too much perk for Legolas's liking. "Isn't that just wonderful?"

"Uh…urrg…um…aahh…"

Though it seemed highly impossible at the time, Ellowyn's smiled widened. "Yup! Our fathers have worked out all the arrangements and everything."

Legolas smacked a hand to his forehead. "MOM!"

##~~~~~~   ##~~~~~~   ##~~~~~~   ##~~~~~~

"Honey, I had nothing to do with this and, at the moment, no power over what's happening," said Legolas's mother, Elindriel. "I will speak with your father, but I don't think he'll be swayed. You know how respected Ellowyn's family is…"

"But Moooooooommy…" whined the young prince as he sat on his bed. "Ellowyn scares me! Did you see how _far_ her mouth stretched when she smiled?!"

Elindriel smiled. "She gets it from her mother." She sat on the bed and ran her fingers through her son's long hair. "Don't worry, Legolas, I'll try my best to make everything all right. You just stop worrying and I'll talk to your father about it, okay?"

Legolas sighed and crossed his arms over his chest. "Okay," he mumbled.

The Elven Queen kissed him on the forehead. "My son…so many things are in store for you. Do not worry over such matters." She then gracefully stood and left, quietly closing the door behind her.

A few minutes later, there was a light tapping on the door.

"Come in," mumbled Legolas, now face-down on his bed.

The door creaked open and the young prince raised his head to see Ringiel entering, a shy look upon her face. "Lady Ellowyn sent me to deliver a message."

"And what message is that?" he asked irritably.

Ringiel moved forward, bowed her head, and handed the prince a folded piece of paper sealed with the crest of Ellowyn's family, a dragon holding a quiver of arrows.

"You didn't read it?" queried Legolas, breaking the seal.

"No."

"Why ever not? I thought you…_girls_—" he said this as if it were a curse "—liked gossip and such things?"

Ringiel gulped. "I am a servant."

Legolas waited for her to continue, but when she did not he said, "And why should that stop you? I am no snitch—I would not have gotten you in trouble with your mistress."

Brown eyes raised a bit. "You have no slaves among you, my prince. If you want to understand, try asking your father. He will know." With that, she curtsied and exited the room.

Sighing in frustration, Legolas unfolded the letter. "Stupid girls. Never know what they're talking about…" He began to read:

_My true love Legolas,_

_It is I, your beloved, Ellowyn! I miss you so in the short time that we have been apart! I hope that you will come to my window and maybe sing me a song, my love!_

_                                    Love,_

_                                    Ellowyn._

Legolas scoffed. "A bit obvious, don't you think?" he thought aloud before tossing the letter over his shoulder and lying back down on the bed. "Idiot girl…"

##~~~~~~   ##~~~~~~   ##~~~~~~   ##~~~~~~

The next morning, Legolas arrived in class a few minutes early. He sat through class, narrowly avoiding falling asleep, and scuttled out of there as fast as possible. Drago had promised him a few minutes to practice on the elite archers' range since they were all given a day off in celebration for the war party's return.

Just as Lord Drago had said, when Legolas arrived at the range it was totally empty. He set down his quiver, pulled off his shirt, and picked up his bow, which was beginning to like an arm extension instead of a foreign object when he held it in his hands. His aim wasn't as good as he would like it to be, and lately practice had been like trying to dig through a mountain, but maybe if he got a little peace and quiet he would be able to further his skills.

TWANG!

Legolas watched in dismay as his arrow nicked the side of the target—a wooden circle nailed to a tree about fifty yards off—and bounced into the forest. He fitted another arrow and was about to shoot it when he was aware of someone watching him. Glancing around suspiciously, he listened carefully for a few moments before he heard the leaves in the tree above him rustling. He put his bow down.

##~~~~~~   ##~~~~~~   ##~~~~~~   ##~~~~~~

Ringiel was sitting in a low branch chewing on a piece of bread, admiring Mirkwood and minding her own business, when Legolas had quietly entered the range and began to practice. She watched him curiously for awhile, then jumped down to a lower branch to watch. As she did this, however, he looked up and put down his bow. Ringiel blinked and he was gone. A sinking feeling developing in her stomach, she looked around.

"I don't suppose Ellowyn sent you?"

Shouting in surprise, Ringiel sat up straight and unceremoniously clonked her head on the branch above her. Cursing under her breath, she rubbed the forming bruise and looked up at Legolas. "No. I was having a snack," she grumbled, looking around for her slice of bread. She noticed with dismay that it had fallen to the ground in a puddle of mud.

"Then are you spying on me?" he asked suspiciously.

"I was here _first_, eating my bread and minding my own business!" defended Ringiel.

Legolas narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "Why aren't you with Ellowyn? I thought you went everywhere with her." _After all, girls travel in packs,_ he thought mischievously.

"It's my day off," she replied. "And I didn't expect anyone to be here."

"Nor did I, but we are both here, and I think we could be in peaceful company if we were to ignore each other instead of spying on one another, don't you?" He pinned her with an accusing glare.

Ringiel sighed and shook her head. "Fine. Just go and be a boy…play with your bent stick and little pointed twigs."

"Fine. You go and be a girl," Legolas retorted before jumping down from the tree. "And they're not 'sticks and twigs.' It's a bow and arrows!"

Ringiel snorted. "Same thing."

They glared at each other for a few moments before their bickering was interrupted by the one being Legolas had hoped never to see again…

"Ooooooooooooh, Legolas, my beloved!"

Legolas groaned and turned around to see Ellowyn standing there, hands on hips, batting her long eyelashes.

"I'm not your beloved," he announced sternly. Ellowyn ran up to the male Elf and hugged him tightly around the neck, placing a big, red kiss on his cheek. Legolas gagged and pushed her away, wiping his cheek furiously and glaring at her. "What has gotten into you?! We're not married yet!" he shouted.

"Well…you know there are so many girls out there who would want to be in my place. I just thought you liked me," said Ellowyn, her big blue eyes filling up with tears.

Legolas rolled his eyes. "Aw, get off it…don't cry."

Ellowyn sniffled.

"Look, I'm sorry, okay. I just think you're being too excited about this, okay?"

The female Elf nodded and sighed. "Okay. I'll try to calm down."

Legolas was about to say something when he heard Ringiel scream. Picking up his bow, he fitted an arrow as Ringiel tumbled down from the tree and ran with all her might towards the nearest building. A few seconds later, a goblin emerged from the branches, landing with a loud 'THUD' on the ground and letting out an animalistic howl before chasing after the young Elf.

"It's a GOBLIN!" shouted Ellowyn, cowering back behind Legolas, expecting him to protect her.

Legolas, however, had other plans. He ran after the goblin determinedly. It turned a corner and he could hear Ringiel scream again. Picking up speed, the young prince rounded the corner as well and found the goblin had Ringiel trapped between two buildings and a fence.

"Hey!" yelled the male Elf. "Leave her alone!"

The goblin, which was a good foot taller than Legolas, turned and made a sort of barking noise, sounding a lot like a derisive laugh, at him before turning back to its intended prey.

"I said _leave her alone_!" Legolas's bow sang and an arrow embedded itself in the goblin's shoulder. It howled in pain and turned to face Legolas, as if to attack him, then thought better of it and pounced on Ringiel.

"AAAAAH!" she screamed, thrashing about.

Legolas threw down his bow and hurled himself onto the goblin's back, drawing the dagger from its belt. He dug the blade into the goblin's flesh, but was then thrown off as the goblin flung him about in rage. The prince hit the wall next to Ringiel, who was bleeding and unconscious, and saw stars. Then, just before he blacked out, he saw Drago appear at the end of the ally and kill the goblin with one arrow. It fell to the ground at his feet and he drifted into unconsciousness…

##~~~~~~   ##~~~~~~   ##~~~~~~   ##~~~~~~

Legolas groaned as he awoke, blue eyes fluttering open to see the gentle face of his mother smiling down at him.

"Welcome back," she said, replacing the wet cloth that had been placed on his forehead.

The young prince looked around. It was dark outside, the moonlight shining through his window. "Where's Ringiel?"

"She is in the hospital wing. You're very lucky you didn't end up there as well," said the fair Elven Queen, her voice stern. "What were you thinking, facing a goblin like that?"

Legolas sat up. "If I hadn't, he would've killed Ringiel. I couldn't just stand there and watch, Mother!"

Elindriel sighed and handed him a cup of steaming liquid. "You both could've been killed back there. I don't ever want to see you doing that again!"

"Yes, Mother," mumbled the prince. He took a sip of the cup's contents and immediately spit it back out. "EEEW! What is that?!" He stared into the liquid, which was colored dark green and thick like honey.

"It's a medicine made by several different kinds of greens," said the Queen, laughing softly. "It's very good for you."

Legolas made a face and placed the cup aside. "I'll save that for later."

Elindriel smiled and brushed a strand of hair from his face. "I must get back to your father. He's still sick from last night's celebration." She kissed his forehead. "Love you."

"Love you too, Mom," Legolas said, watching her leave. As soon as the door was closed, he was out of bed and pulling on a clean tunic. Making sure no one was watching, he then snuck out of his room to the hospital wing…

##~~~~~~   ##~~~~~~   ##~~~~~~   ##~~~~~~

Ringiel lay quietly on her pallet, head wrapped in bandages and arm splinted. Legolas sat in the chair next to her, warily eyeing the other fifty or so patients in the room.

"How does she fare?" he asked a nurse.

The nurse sighed and wiped her hands on a clean towel. "She's a strong one. That blow could've killed her, but she'll be alright, young Prince. Don't worry." With a comforting smile, she walked away to tend to an injured elite archer.

Legolas peered curiously at Ringiel's face. Being half-Elven, she had a darker complexion than most of the inhabitants of Mirkwood, with brown hair and almost black eyes instead of the usual fair hair and blue or green eyes. Her ears were pointed, though not so much so as that of a true Elf's, and since she had decided to capitalize on her mortal blood she had the gift of immortality…much like Lord Elrond of Rivendell.

"I thought we were not to spy on each other anymore," Ringiel whispered, opening one eye.

Realizing he had been caught staring, Legolas quickly looked away. "I was just checking to see if you were okay.

"Fine…thanks to you," she said with a weak smile. "Thanks for saving me."

"It was a great distraction to Ellowyn," joked the prince. He smiled back and a foreign emotion washed over him, causing him to shiver. What the heck?! Standing up, he bid her a short farewell and left the building.

##~~~~~~   ##~~~~~~   ##~~~~~~   ##~~~~~~

Outside, the Prince of Mirkwood thumped his head against the wall. He was going crazy for sure! There was no way he could be…_attracted_ to her…could there?!

TBC….


End file.
